Red
by scarlet tribe
Summary: Red shoes, red lips, red hair. This woman, an old friend of Sherlock, oozes confidence and strength. But after helping on a case, a storm rolls in with Moriarty at the head and Ophelia is in the middle. This strong woman is brought to her knees. Does she beg for mercy? or does she fight to get back on her feet. Not sure what to think so tell me.
1. Chapter 1 red silk robe

John followed Sherlock into what looked on the outside to be a trashy strip club, but once inside it was quite different. Inside was a very upscale…_something._ John wasn't sure what it was. A burlesque lounge was the best description.

Sherlock and John were seated quickly by a lanky woman in impossibly high heels and impossibly tighter black slacks that accentuated the sway of her hips and John had trouble looking away. Sherlock seemed uncharacteristicly relaxed as he sat and leaned back into the chair, crossing his legs as if he owned the place. The seats were leather and extremely comfortable and a small table sat between the two, separating them. On the table held a small lamp that had a blacklight in it. The ambiance was dark, relaxing.

Sherlock thanked the woman that brought them small glasses of alcohol. He slipped her a piece of paper. She read it with a confused look but nodded.

"As soon as possible, but I am afraid she has a show. You are more than welcome to wait until she is finished. Only one song for her now." The hostess offered. Sherlock smiled a charming smile.

"oh really, is she getting too old?" He asked, flirtatiously. _Since when does Sherlock flirt?!_ John thought to himself. The woman laughed and swatted at his arm.

"No, no. She took over the club after Nicholi retired. She has to run it now." Sherlock hmmed in response and the hostess walked away.

"Well, make yourself comfortable John. This will take a few moments." A few minutes later he added. "What are your questions?" he added with a sigh.

"What the hell are we doing here? And Where is _here?_ What can this possibly have to do with the case?" John asked, leaning in his chair towards his friend.

"Obviously we are here for the case. The girls are most likely being abducted to be sold into prostitution. AN old acquaintance of mine will be able to assist us if there is prostitution involved."

"Wait, you mean, shes-"

"Oh for god's sake. No she is not involved directly."

"Directly?!"

"Oh do shut up. She merely has information that could rival Mycroft's. Infact, I believe she now knows more especialy in the non legal fields." Sherlock sipped the drink he had been given. John leaned back and drank.

He took in his surroundings. The "stage" looked like several catwalks that extended into bars. There were stools so men and women could sit as close as they could to where the performers would walk. Music began to play and lights dimmed. Dancers began to fill the catwalks. They were gorgeous women who managed to capture the attention of everyone. John glanced at his frined who held a small smile on his mouth as he watched the performers, eyes scanning, deducing.

Then a voice, smooth and seductive sang over the loud music. Dry ice had formed a smoke over the entrance where the dancers had origionally emerged from and a small, feminine figured slowly exited. She belonged to the voice that was flowing through the air.

If the other women were gorgeous, this woman was a goddess. John's mouth almost fell open. She had red hair that fell in loose curls past her shoulders. She had a tight black skirt that was a few inches above her knee, a red, form fitting top with black lace over it. Her make up was classy and sexy. She had on very sexy shoes. Red pumps with a thin black heel. Her hair yas styled so it was parted to the side and finished he look. Very much like Jessica Rabbit, john mused.

She sauntered down the runways, singing, swinging her hips, driving the veiwers crazy.

At one point, she had stopped at the end of the catwalk right infront of them. She sat and crossed her legs but rested her foot on Sherlock's shoulder and batted her eyelashes. John's mouth actually fell open as Sherlock brought up a hand to the outside of her ankle and turned to kiss the inside of the ankle with a smirk. John's heart almost stopped. Never had he seen Sherlock so comfortable, touchy even. He almost missed the slip of paper he placed in her shoe. This lessened a bit of the shock.

But his mouth was still open. The woman threw her head back with a laugh but caught the shock of John's face. He saw a gleam is playfulness flas in her eyes. The smirk was blatant and John was sure her next action was to fluster him.

It worked.

The singer slid off the catwalk and sauntered over to John before gracefully placing herself in his lap. She drapped her legs over the arm of the chair and hooked a finger into the collar of his shirt and brought him _very _close to her face.

John was frozen.

She let out a semi-squeal of pleasure before she removed herself from John, kept singing and with the help of two very muscular men (most likely bouncers) got back on the catwalk.

John tried to control his breathing. Before he knew it, the song was over and she was gone. There was such a loud applause and John turned to Sherlock.

"Who was that?" He breathed.

"Old acquaintance. Time to go." Sherlock stated, rising quickly from his seat and John tried to keep up. Manuvering through the room, filled with people and tables, he almost lost Sherlock.

After passing bouncers, the two made their way down a dimly it hallway until they stopped at a black door. Sherlock paused and turned to his shorter friend.

"You may want to stay behind me." John nodded, slightly confused and Sherlock turned to the door, smiling and swinging it open.

"Ophelia" He drawled pleasantly and stepped forward but the door was slammed back in his face. He stumbled into John and his hand flew to his nose.

"Dammit, Sherlock! Knock for once in your life! I happen to be changing!" Ophelia's voice sounded through the door.

"It's not as if it isn't anything I have seen before." He said casually and John looked at Sherlock so fast he cracked his neck. "Oh please, John. Ophelia, open the door." There was a frustrated sigh and the door flung open. The woman they were addressing was the singer yes, but her hair was a mess and in a quick messy braid that fell over her shoulder. She wore a black silky dressing gown that went to mid thigh.

"By all means, come in!" She said as she turned and tossed a small stool out of the way. Fabrics and the stool fell to the floor, adding to the clutter. Her dresser, table, and beauty station was covered in vases and bouquets of roses. Red and pink. Ophelia plopped down on a day bed, stretching her legs out, crossing them, she still had her heels on. She rolled on her side and rested her head on her hand. John stood awkwardly as Sherlock picked up a card next to a pile of roses.

"So what can I do for you?" She asked as she picked up a glass filled with amber liquid.

Sherlock humed "I see my brother sent these, no doubt to ease my vist." She scoffed and John was so lost.

"Please, I _always_ enjoy your visit. Still pissed though. The least you could have done was introduce me to her. What was her name again? Janine was it?" Sherlock hummed as he eyed the roses distractedly.

Ophelia turned her attention to John. "Congratulations on the marriage. Can you pass me that black box up there?" She pointed to a small black box on top of the wardrobe. John reached up and grabbed it, knocking over the silk clothes under it. They were lingere. Ophelia tried not to laugh at his face she really did. He bashfully handed her the box and found it difficult to look her in the face. SOemhow this was more awkward than dealing with Irene.

"How do you know my name? And that I got married?" He asked. Was she able to deduce like Sherlock? He hoped not. She smiled at him and removed a cigarete and a lighter.

"Pillow talk." She said lighting a cigarete. John met her gaze, perplexed. Who would she know that would know him?

John's mouth dropped again and turned to Sherlock. His friend looked over his shoulder.

"Oh please, John. It was not pillow talk."

"Might has well have been." Ophelia pipped up.

"Ophelia, shut up, you are going to give John a stroke." Ophelia rolled her eyes. Sherlock stripped off his jacket and walked over to the day bed. HE picked up the girl's legs and threw them off the day bed and took their place. She rolled her eyes and put her feet on his lap.

"AM I missing something?" John asked. Ophelia looked at Sherlock. "Did you not tell him about me? I'm offened." She took another drag and looked to John.

"I stole his innoscence." She said proudly. John was a bit at a loss and didn't quite register her words. "DO sit." She motioned to one of the lounging chairs. He sat. She could tell he was still a bit confused. She rolled her eyes.

"Please. Sherlock needed sex pointers and I helped him out. He needed to get close to Janine. I taught him. And I must say, I think I am an excellent teacher. Much better than Irene." She said.

"Hardly. Had Irene been permitted into the country I probably would have called her first." Ophelia kicked Sherlock in the ribs, hard.

"That's not true and you know it. Besides, you have been screwing me longer than you have known John. It's obvious you trust me more." John was so bewildered.

"John, Sherlock and I met in Uni. You know how hormones are at that age. Even the great Sherlock Holmes is only human. I was at a party and somehow Sherlock had gotten dragged there. Moran's doing no doubt. Still hate him by the way." She said to Sherlock. Sherlock picked up a glass of the alcohol and sipped it. He was oddly silent.

"He had managed to get roofied, the poor boy. Me being the saint I am, prevented what was sure to be a marvelous one-night stand. My small flat was nearby so I kidnapped the detective and took him home. We were chemistry partners at the time. I needed his brain to help me pass that class. Damn professor had it out for me and I needed Sherlock to help me prove I was right." She paused and took another drag. Exhaling she continued with a laugh. "You should have seen him when he woke up." Sherlock used a pillow to cover her face. It startled the other two in the room.

"No need to continue. I will finish this ridiculous tale. John, afterwards we had grown quite comfortable with each other. Comfortable enough to know the most intimate details about each other. Our trust grew. You know how I find most things not related to cases dull and tedious. But I am only human. When the problem arose, I found a solution. The solution was Ophelia." John was shocked at his frined being so open. Ophelia knocked away the pillow.

"Don't be so dramatic, we shag, we give each other information. Nothing special."

"Don't be so surprised john. I am only human."

"SO sHerlock. How was she? I want details!" She stuck her legs under her and turned to face Sherlock.

Sherlock Jumped up. "We are not discussing this."

"Please, tell me you at least did the tongue thing I taught you." She whined. Sherlock's silence answered the question.

"You didn't. Oh Sherlock" She whined. "You are such an arse!" She stood on the couch and threw the pillow at his face. "That was the least you could have done since you played her!"

"Look, we are here-"

"Oh now you ask!" She sighed. "The girls are being sold to a huge France prostitution ring." She wrote down a few names. "These people are the ones working for me, they will help you bust the gang. Call Mycroft for jurisdiction issues." She handed over the note.

"It was good to meet you John. Sherlock, pleasure as always." She turned and went to her beauty stand before sitting and unbraiding her hair. John turned to leave but stopped to watch the next interaction.

Sherlock walked over behind her and reached over her shoulder to grab his coat and scarf. He bent down and kissed her cheek. He couldn't quite make out what Sherlock breathed into her ear but he saw the blush creeping over the girl's face that Sherlock did not. No his friend was heading his way.

"Sherlock. It has been a while, my door is still open…..And I am glad your exile wasn't too long."

"Stay out of trouble, Ophelia."

The next time John met Ophelia, the mood was quite different.

It was late and John was at the flat with Sherlock, they had just ended a case and Mary was going to meet the two at the flat. There was plans for an evening at Angelo's.

These plans were interrupted when Ophelia stormed into the flat, covered from head to toe in blood.


	2. Chapter 2 shoot to bluff

Woah, so this got a better response than I thought it would so looks like I will be continuing for a bit. I just wanted a strong, confident woman to be paired with Sherlock. And I have her patent leather red and black shoes that I gave her. They were the inspiration.

John was sitting in his chair, waiting for Sherlock to finish cleaning up when the door to their flat banged open down stairs. Either Mrs. Hudson was very angry or someone was out for blood. John stood as he heard bare feet thump up the steps. When he aw who was causing a rucus, he paused, taking in the odd sight.

Standing in front of him, covered in blood, was a very cross and slightly injured Ophelia.

"Where. Is. He?" She spat out. John opened his mouth but she cut him off. "John, where is that bastard, I'm going to murder him." She clutched her side. John made a move forward but Ophelia raised a gun at him. "DO not touch me." Sherlock chose this moment to exit his room and join them in the living room. He paused and took in his friend's state. HE furrowed his eyebrows.

"I thought I heard you causing a ruckus, but I did not expect you to be covered in blood." HE stated. Ophelia turned on him, grabbing the nearest thing, and chucked the item as hard as she could at him. He ducked, letting it fly over his head and into the kitchen. He frowned.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES, YOU ARE THE BIGGEST ARSEHOLE I HAVE EVER MET! NOT ONLY DO YOU DRAG ME INTO YOUR FUCKING CASES, YOU HAD MANAGED TO ATTRACT VERY HIGH CLASS KILLERS INTO MY LIFE!" She grabbed something else and launched it at him.

""What are you talking about? Calm down and- DO NOT THROW THAT!" John yelled and moved to grab her arm. She froze and looked at what was in her hand. It was a jar of very flammable liquid. If it hit near the stove or one of the Bunsen burners, the flat would be burnt to the ground. She slowly set it down before grabbing a pillow instead. It hit Sherlock square in the face.

"How did we get people after you?" John asked. She just sighed and flopped her arms, exasperated and tired. Sore too.

"Those guys who were taking the girls? You know they are part of an even larger group that no one can touch right? They heard I helped. They know who I am, they don't like me. Frankly, they aren't the best company either."

"Ophelia, you just are unpleasant by nature." Sherlock added as he sat, crossing his legs in his chair. She pinned him with a glare.

"You wouldn't be a ray of sunshine if they strapped you to a chair for 48 hours either." John's mouth dropped open, who the hell was this woman? Sherlock shrugged, apparently this was old news to him.

"Ophelia, what exactly did you do before you worked at the club?" John asked tentatively. sHe shrugged.

"I was kind of an agent for the british government, I helped where the government couldn't. Made quite a few enemies. I had been well hidden until now." She glared at Sherlock again. He shrugged. "Not our problem. You can handle yourself."

Ophelia flared up again. "AREYOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" She was about to start yelling again when a feminine voice came from the doorway.

"John, what is going on?" Ophelia turned to the voice and everyone was suddenly buzzing in alarm.

Ophelia had raised her gun and held it with both hands, ready to fire at Mary. Mary held her hands at a relaxed surrender, her face neutral but firm. John reached a hand out to the gun and was yelling at Ophelia. Sherlock had moved forward as well, trying to talk to her in a firm tone. Ophelia was too busy yelling at Mary.

"DON'T MOVE OR I WILL BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT!"

"DO NOT TLAK TO MY WIFE LIKE THAT!"

"SHE'S YOUR FUCKING WIFE?"

"Ophelia, you need to calm down!"

"HOW THE FUCK CAN I CALM DOWN WHEN SHE'S HERE? HOW DO I KNOW SHE WON'T SHOOT ME AGAIN?"

"WHAT DO YOU MENA AGAIN?"

"John,-" mary started but Ophelia stopped her.

"SHUT UP!"

They all went on trying to calm down Ophelia, and trying to avoid a shooting when a figure appeared behind Mary. The figure whistled and go the three's attention. Mary dropped her hands.

The three looked at Mycroft. John was neutral.

"Oh, for God's sake."

"SHERLOCK YOU SON OF A BITCH! NOW _HE'S HERE TOO?!" _she turned to her friend and dropped the gun to her side.

"Believe me, I did not request his appearance." SHrlock pinched the bridge of his nose. Mycroft stepped forward and Ophelia straightened up, stepped back and held her gun again.

"One more step and I swear to god-"

"Ms. Ophelia, I assure you I am not here to cause you trouble. I am merely relaying news, and providing a solution to a problem." Mycroft stated.

"What news?" She shifted. Her feet were bleeding and it smarted a bit.

"It seems that you are going to be without a home for a while. I am here to offer services to assist you in getting a new place."

"what the fuck did you do to my apartment." She said as she dropped her gun.

"Someone placed a bomb in your apartment. A burglar set it off. The entire building is gone. I apologize for any inconvenience." Mycroft stated simply and twirled his umbrella. John tensed up, waiting for her to just snap and shoot someone. But what she did next startled him.

Ophelia flopped her hands and fell on her back with a groan. She placed her hand on her face, covering her eyes, the gun was on her stomach. "Are you fucking serious? I give up. I am so done. Go ahead and shoot me now." She mumbled. Mary smiled and shook her head. She moved around Mycroft and too the odd woman on the floor. John reached out to stop his wife, nervous but she just smiled at him.

She leaned over the woman. "If you need a place to stay, I am sure you can have John's old room, it's right upstairs. I have spare clothes you can borrow, until you get new ones." Ophelia peeked out from behind your hands.

"You are too good to me, when you aren't trying to kill me."

"Business is business." Mary said shrugging. Ophelia nodded and smirked. "See you got out ok."

"Who said you could offer up the room?" Sherlock said grumpily and moved forward. He nudged her side with his foot. "Get up you are bleeding on the carpet."

"Sherlock!" John stated accusingly. Ophelia lazily raised her gun.

"I will blow your dick off, you pretentious aresehole." She stated. Mary rolled her eyes.

"Ophelia, please, as tempting as it is, I would appreciate it if you did not shoot my brother." Mycroft said stepping closer. Sherlock smirked, completely confident and unfazed by the gun a few inches from his genitals.

"Oh, please she is clearly bluffing." There was a click and everyone jumped. Sherlock's hips went backwards and he fell to the floor, shock clear as day on his face. Mycroft as well was shocked. John started forward.

"Oi!" He called and came to Mary's side, who took the gun from Ophelia slowly. She opened the cartridge. There were no bullets.

"You had a gun with no bullets?" John asked. Ophelia looked confused.

"Im out?"

"YOU WERE ACTUALLY GOING TO SHOOT HIM?" John roared.

"You weren't bluffing." Sherlock stated. She turned her head.

"I don't bluff, remember?" She stated simply. Her hand shot up to her mouth to cover a cough. She groaned and turned on her side. "There, no more blood on your floor."

"WE should have a look at that." John offered. Ophelia nodded. She was tired. And she was safe.

"Mycroft I am still pissed at you." She said and he chuckled. "I expect nothing less. Give them hell for me, would you?" He asked and turned to leave.

"Always do."

Mary sat on the floor slowly. Sherlock got up and went to fetch the med kit. John hd no idea where it was.

"SO you are actually married?" Ophelia asked Mary. She nodded.

"I am pregnant, too." Ophelia's eyes widdend and she sat up, flinching.

"You. Pregnant?" She asked. Mary smiled and nodded. Ophelia grinned and bounced in her seat and laughed, pulling Mary in for a hug.

"Oh my god, congratulations! I am so happy for you! I told you, you could get out. First you didn't believe me, now look at you! Married and starting a family." Ophelia smiled warmly.

"Yes. I see you have started a new life as well, not so family oriented though." Mary nudged the woman playfully. Ophelia shrugged and the men came back.

"Where are you injured?" John asked. Ophelia shrugged and Sherlock sat in his chair.

"Shot in the side, just grazed me. Glass in my feet. Bruised just about everywhere. Nothing serious." John shook his head. "Let's look at the gunshot wound first."

Ophelia shrugged, she really liked to shrug, and with out a word, pulled her shirt smoothly over her head, sitting in a black bra and her black pencil skirt.

"uh, ok then." John muttered, taken aback by her casual indifference to sitting shirtless in a room with two men. HE went to clean up her wound. HE had her lie on her side so she was once again facing Sherlock.

"So, there was something about a spare room."

Ophelia was in the shower. After John patched her up, she insisted she showered. She did have other people's blood on her. She had marched into Sherlock's room and grabbed a few things, like it was her own room before storming into the shower.

She had been storming everywhere lately. This was a tough week. She thought she was done with all the fighting and running. Nope.

sHe sighed. She used to be a very happy person, but lately she was tired. She needed sleep.

After her very long and warm shower, she dried off and threw on the had grabbed a pair of Sherlock's clean boxers and his sweat pants. sHe also nicked his favorite purple shirt.

She quietly padded out into the living room. John had left for takeout and Mary and Sherlock were sitting, sipping tea. Mary smiled at Ophelia when she walked back in. She settled on the couch next to her old friend and Sherlock eyed the two.

He wasn't sure how he felt about her being in his flat. He had been to her place on many occasions but hse had never ever been where he lived. How did she find him? Thinking on what she used to do, it wasn't hard.

Part of him was glad to have her back in his life, even if temporary, but another part was anxious and uncomfortable. He tended to get too attached and then she would disappear for a bit. It drove him crazy. Each time she left, it broke what ever friendship and trust she had built up with him. Whenever she stormed back into his life, she built it back up stronger each time.

And each time it was more and more painful for her to leave.

Damn her and the sentiment.


	3. Chapter 3 Violent Chardonay

Ophelia had taken Sherlock's bed, arguing that he wasn't going to sleep anyway. So, she woke up in the same bed. She breathed in his smell from the pillow. She didn't have many friends and even fewer safe places. Here was about as safe as she could get so his scent was comforting. He has had her back when she really needed his help and she helped him too.

She groaned and rolled over, eyeing the clock. It was still morning. Sitting up she stretched nad yawned before realizing the flat was quiet. It was too quiet. Wherever Sherlock went, sound followed. She lazily padded out of his room and down the hall.

"Sherlock?" She called out. No one answered. Shrugging, she made her way to get tea. She had just reached out to grab a mug When a hand reached out and grabbed her. The other hand flew to her neck wich she caught, her eyes catching the glint of the knife. She jumped, both feet finding the edge of the counter and she pushed off it, send the the two onto the table where she snapped her head back, striking his nose. His grip lossened and she twisted his arms away from her and jumped out of his reach before turning to him. Her back was to the living room.

A second man grabbed her around the waist, pinning her arms and the other hand went to her mouth. She was lifted off the ground and she kicked at him. The man whose nose she probably broke approached and tried to grab her feet. When he did, she kicked off him again and the force caught her captor off guard, sending him into the small table next to John's chair. The two fell to the ground and she flipped over his heand, landing on her knees.

She quickly stood and tried to axe kick the man in the face. He blocked and grabbed her ankle, pulling her down. While on the floor she sent her other foot hard into the side of his head, knocking him out. She looked at the second man in time to see a kick to her face. She fell back onto the floor and rolled when he tried to jump on her ribs.

Pushing herself back to her feet she sprinted full on at him, having rolled away towards the door a few feet. He was momentarily caught off guard at such a head on attack. He swung an arm at her but she threw herself to the floor and lithlely slid between his legs to get behind him. She jumped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. She tightened her hold as tight as she could. The man ripped at her arms and tried to hit her but she buried her head onto his shoulder and her arm. If this ass thought she was going to let go anytime soon, he was so wrong.

He began to try to back into walls and book shelves. The two were making quite a mess.

John and Marry had heard the ruckus and ran up the steps. They had stopped by to bring her food and some spare clothes. When the two reached the door, they froze. Mary's eyes widened fractionaly and her eyebrows rose. John felt his mouth fall open and his eyebrows shot up so fast they almost flew off his face.

"Let be go, you bitch." The man gasped out. Ophelia squeezed tighter. "No way in hell you arse!" She bit down hard on his shoulder with a snarl and the man yelled out in pain.

"We need to help her." John started forward but Mary stopped him.

"Don't bother, she will be fine." She took the food from John and went to the kitchen to prepare it. John followed, about to protest. "If she really wanted him out, she would grab the gun or knife on him. She is probably just bored or she just woke up."

"What does her being awake have to do with anything?" John asked.

"She can be a bitch in the mornings. She's fine if she is alone but with people she doesn't know or like? Poor bastards." Mary went about preparing her friend her breakfast. Some sausage and toast with coffe. John watched the fight for a few minutes. Ophelia had been thrown to the floor but stabbed his knee with the knife she swiped from his pocket.

His attention was turned back to Mary.

"So how do you know her?" he asked quietly. Mary paused before continuing.

"We worked in a very similar area. Sometimes we ended up having to work together. Once we ended up stranded in Paris. She got us the best suite in a very upscale hotel. We stayed for a few days. In that time, we got to know each other, it was quite nice to have a female friend who you could almost trust." She paused again and John watched her carefully.

"After a few more incidents like that, we had actually become close friends. It wasn't something either of us could afford, but frineds we became anyway." Mary smiled and John couldn't help but smile softly at his wife. "We shared everything, our dreams, secrets and weaknesses wich wasn't smart. Worst mistake we ever made."

"Why did she think she was going to shoot you?" John chuckled and Mary froze.

"She was a threat to Magnussen. He hired me to take her out and he had things on me that could not only put me in danger, but her as well.i gave her the scar that is on her left hip. The look on her face was pure hurt and betrayal. Nearly did me in. I told her who and why. Things happened and Ophelia got away. Over the next few years, we tried to kill each other. Sort of. Each time either of us got a chance, we backed down. Neither of us could do it."

John listened and took in all this information about his wife and Ophelia. "It's a good thing you didn't." He offered. Mary nodded and smiled slightly. "I have missed her, when we weren't trying to kill each other. The girl is crazy. She-"

Mary was cut off by a gunshot that was followed by silence. The two left to food to see Ophelia standing over the man who now lay on the ground with a gunshot wound in his arm. She slammed her foot down on his face and nocked him out.

She slowly turned to the two before tossing the gun to John. She had made sure to make sure the safety was on.

"Sorry about the mess. I'll clean it later." She said as she made her way to the kitchen. "What are you cooking?" She asked with a smile and sat on a chair, one knee under her shin, the other tucked under her. John looked at her and then the two men on the floor. Mary smiled and went back to the food. The two women settled into a comfortably easy conversation as if this thing happened every day. It probably did for a while if John actualy thought about it. John shook his head and sat down with the two women at the kitchen table. Mary had made them all coffee but her and John had eaten at home. The three fell into idle chatter and it was a quiet morning. No one really questioned where Sherlock had run off to, he would most likely return soon anyway.

Minutes later the door slammed shut downstairs and Sherlock easily made his way to his flat. He strode in and began to remove his gloves. HE stopped when he was the two men on his floor.

"I assume Ophelia is responsible for this?" He asked as he continued remoing his gloves and scarf. Ophelia hummed a confirmation and quickly got up and sauntered over to him. John noticed her demeanor change slightly to something more provocative. Surely she wasn't about to try to seduce Sherlock, was she?

Her back straightened and the sway of her hips was slightly more exaggerated. Her steps were deliberate and almost like a saunter. This was more confident and obvious than her early demeanor where she slouched and shuffled. Her voice was low an soft when she approached him and placed light, gentle hands on her friend's, stopping him from untying his scarf all the way.

"Let me do that for you." She began to untie the scarf and slowly pulled it by one end, making it slip off in a suggestive manner. John sat silent, trying to figure out what she was doing. Mary rolled her eyes and continued to read a newspaper. Sherlock's eyes narrowed. What did she want from him?

"You must have left early." She continued speaking as she slowly unbuttoned his coat. "You have been gone a long while." Her voice was still low but it was also slow. Sherlock saw her watching him from under her long eyelashes. "What do you want, Ophelia?" He inquired with a sigh, not up or her antics and games. She slipped her arms around his waist under the unbuttoned coat in what looked like a hug. John saw the ridiculous height difference. Sherlock, being extremely tall, made Ophelia look like even more of a dwarf. She barely reached his chest.

Sherlock stiffened when her small hands grazed his sides and slowly came together as they trailed down his back, teasingly.

"Ophelia, what do you want?" He asked again. She pouted teasingly.

"Can a girl not welcome her friend home after he has disappeared all morning?" She asked with a small smile. She pulled herself closerd and Sherlock felt her fingers gently feeling his back pockets. She inhaled deeply but frowned almost immediately. It clicked in his head what she wanted and smirked.

In his deep, taunting voice he spoke lowly but loud enough for the other two in his flat to hear. "If it is the cigaretes you are looking for, you are going to be disappointed." His smirk grew as she stepped away from him, large lips forming a pout.

"You don't smoke?!" She asked, clearly not happy. She turned to John. "Is that your doing?" John jolted at being spoken to. HE assumed she forgot about them. "Um."

"Ophelia don't you have work?" Sherlock asked before she could bother them any further. She turned to him with a glare of annoyance. "You just want me gone, you arse." She stood on her tiptoes and grabbed his hair on the back of his head, near a very sensitive patch, and gently forced his head low enough for her to plant a kiss on his cheek. She realeased him and enjoyed the look of distaste on his face. Smirking she waltzed away to the bedroom to put on decent clothing. Mary had placed a duffle bag in the hallway leading to the bathroom and Sherlock's room.

Ophelia waltzed into her place of work, furiously texting an angry message to Mycroft insisting he fix her apartment as soon as possible.

_Ophelia, I am not inclined to pay for the refurbishing and reconstruction of your apartment. –MH_

_I believe you are going to anyway. This was not my fault, I was helping your stupid brother! Not my fault this time.-O_

There was a few minutes before Mycroft texted her back. She could practically hear him groaning in annoyance in that expensive suit. She walked through the lounge area and to the bar. She sat her bag on a stool and called for the barteneder before returning to her phone.

_Going to be working late. Are you still on the case?-O_ She sent that to Sherlock. By the time she sent it the bartender returned.

"Hey, Love. Need a quick drink?" The delicious looking bartender and an old friend of Ophelia's asked. "You look like shit today." He said as he began to make her a drink. Ophelia shot him a glare.

"Thank you for your wonderful observation. And don't call me that." She sipped what he set in front of her and her phone buzzed. She checked it.

_I suppose I could cover the basics since Sherlock is to blame. But I am going to have to ask you to cease blowing up your apartments. –MH_

_Will do-O_

"Who are you texting?" Marco, the bartender inquired as he tried to peer over her screen. She sipped more of her drink and shoved the phone in her pocket. "None of your business. Can you get me a bottle of Chardonnay? I'm taking it to my dressing room." She asked and slipped off the stool. HE nodded "Been one of those mornings?" he inquired. Her pocket buzzed with a text. She pulled it out and checked it while bringing the glass and bottle with her.

"You have no idea." She began walking away and read the text.

_Lestrade is dealing with the dull parts. No open case. Get your own icecream. –SH_

Ophelia let out a pout and she began to walk away and pocketed her phone again. Marco wiped down the counter and bid her farewell.

"Don't get too drunk, show starts in two hours, Love." Marco called when began to walk away. He turned back to stock up the shelves right behind him and ducked, missing the glass she had tossed back in his direction.

"Don't call me that!"

Ophelia gently closed her door and dropped the bag she had on an empty chair. The only empty chair. It was surprising it was not covered in clothes or papers like usual. She walked over to her make up desk and tossed her phone onto it. She loved it. It was one of those old fashioned ones with the big mirrors and lightbulbs. But she had some of them switched to reds and pinks. The room itself had red wallpaper and some candles. There were some flowers left from admirers and from Mycroft's apology. The daybed was simple but comfortable and had black and red throw pillows and a small black blanket for when she slept there. Or some poor girl of hers got too drunk after a nasty break up.

The day bed could be separated from the rest of the room by a thin black curtain that was pulled back at the moment. There were wardrobes with drawers open and a small closet with its doors open. Ophelia looked into the mirror. She really did look like shit. Her bags were prominent without make up and she almost looked sick.

"Nothing makeup can't fix." She sighed and pulled the jumper she had been lent over her head and tossed it to the day bed. It landed on the coffee table instead. Then she removed the grey wife beater tank top, leaving her in her bra from yesterday. It was a simple black one with white lace. She grabbed her breasts and pouted.

"Well that won't do." She said as she went to one of the open drawers. She pulled out a black push-up bustier and put that on. She stripped off the jeans and threw on lacey black boyshorts panties and grabbed a black high waist pencil skirt. It ended two inches above the knees and had a slit up the back.

Ophelia's phone buzzed and caught her attention. She checked it and it was from an unknown number.

_Where are you?_

Though Ophelia was puzzled, she shrugged it off and grabbed the Chardonnay. She drank straight from the bottle. She kicked some clothes out of her way as she walked over to her radio and cd player. Yeah, oldschool, but that's what she liked. Gin Wigmore was in the cd player. She skipped to her favorite song _Kill of the Night_ and blasted it. She stopped at her desk and leaned on it, looking into the mirror.

"What am I going to do with you?" She whispered before smirking. She grabbed some mouse and scrunched her hair. It would go well with bold winged eyeliner and red lipstick. She loved red lipstick.

When she finished fixing her hair, there was a knock at her door.

"Ms. Philia! Its Maisy." A small voice called from behind the door. Ophelia walked over and opened it up, still not wearing a shirt. The person named Maisy is a young girl that works as a hostess or a dancer when needed. Ophelia has also learned she has a beautiful voice. When Ophelia is sick (or hungover), she has MAisy fill in.

"What's up?" Ophelia asked and sipped more from the bottle. Maisy's eyebrow quirked at her boss's appearance.

"Three of the girls are running late. Cali is on her way and Blair isn't answering her phone. She might be driving though." Maisy informed and tugged on her incredibly long brown hair. Her green eyes darted to the floor.

"I take it Tracy is the third." Maisy nodded in confirmation. "She still not answering?"

"Yes, Ma'am. She hasn't called in yet either." Maisy said and fidgeted.

"Has anyone been over to check on her?" Ophelia asked and leaned in the doorway.

"Candace lives a block away from her and tried to check in the other day but she didn't answer her door." MAisy informed her boss. Ophelia hummed and took another sip from the Chardonnay. "I'll stop by later and see what's going on. She's been gone for a week. Thanks for letting me know. Let me know when the other two get here." Ophelia said and went to close the door.

"Oh! By the way, the DJ said we are going to start off with Love Me by Stooshe. Something was wrong with the file on the usual That ok?" Maisy asked before she could close the door.

"Yeah, make sure everyone knows. And get everyone ready half an hour before it starts." Ophelia said and bid Maisy a fair well.

After closing the door, Ophelia took another sip and thought. It had been a week since anyone had heard from Tracy, the clubs resident chatty cathy. She didn't show around the same time women started disappearing. Same build and hair. Actually, so was Blair. And no one can get a hold of her.

Ophelia stormed across the room to her phone. She was about to send a message to Sherlock but halfway through he got her first.

_Case might be reopened. We need information.-SH_

_Swing by after work?-O_

_Need it sooner. Can you get out of the show?-SH_

_I can have someone take over for tonight. Are you on your way?-O_

_No heading to NSY. I will text you when we are heading over. –SH_

Ophelia set the phone down and went to put on her make-up. Just because she was no longer performing didn't mean she didn't have a performance to give. She had to make an appearance to make it seem like nothing was going on. Plus, once out on the floor, she would be able to monitor who comes and goes.

Once she finished, she threw on a white button up business shirt and tucked it into her skirt. She left the top three buttons open and slipped on her red patent leather pumps, grabbed her phone and walked out the door.

Ophelia marched to her girl's dressing room and entered.

"Ladies I hope you all are almost ready. I need your attention. Lately, as you know, women have been disappearing. Because of this, I do not want any of you going anywhere alone. I want each of you to make sure you are with at least one other person. And I want you girls to stay together for the evenings as well. Three or four each. Does anyone have the housing for that?" She asked.

A few hands went up and the girls began to make sleeping arrangements. No one was really panicked, it has happened several times before.

"Also, I will be speaking to security and bartenders. The wait staff will also be given a heads up. I want everyone checking in when you leave and enter this club. Understood?" The was a collective response and Ophelia went on making announcements about the nights performance.

The show was going well and there were no issues with patrons. Ophelia watched from a seat at the bar, still drinking form the same bottle. But now she had a glass.

"Nothing out of place." Marco said as he leaned on the bar. Ophelia hummed and poured herself another glass. Marco watched and furrowed his eyebrows.

"How many glasses have you had, Love." He asked.

"Not enough to miss that name. Stop calling me that." She stated and sipped some more. She was beginning to feel the effects of it. This would be her last glass. "Put this in the back. Ill lake it home with me." Marco nodded and took it from her. Ophelia sat and checked her watch. It was getting late and the show was almost over. Where were they?

"So." Marco said upon his return. "Sherlock's coming back." Marco stated and began wiping down the bar. "When's he getting here? It's almost over." Ophelia hummed and nodded.

"He said he'd text me when-oh shit." She muttered and sighed, slamming the class on the bar.

"What?"

"I left my phone in my room. I'll be right back. If he shows up send him back." She hopped off the barstool and made her way to the back. When she opened her door, her phone was buzzing. When she picked it up it told her she missed numerous calls and began reading the texts.

_Ophelia, the case is open. Your place of work may be targeted.-SH_

_Answer your phone, it is an emergency.-SH_

_Ophelia! If this is you being childish again, we have no time for it!-SH_

_Why aren't you answering?-Mary_

_Ophelia, pick up, Sherlock's seriously concerned, he's yelling at the cabbie, according to John-Mary_

_Ophelia, pick up, you may be in danger. –SH_

_You need to pick up, he's not kidding. Mary gave me your number-JW_

_OPHELIA!-SH_

_Ur next _

The last one was from an anonymous number and was not like the others. She froze and her phone buzzed again. It was the same number. She opened the message.

_Behind u_

Ophelia spun around to have a fist connect to her face. It sent her to the floor with a cry of shock.

"Hello. I don't believe we've met." A man with an American accent said as he watched her get on her hands and knees. HE delivered a hard kick to her ribs. The was a crunch and Ophelia screamed, hoping someone would hear her. The man rolled her onto her back and knelt down.

"You have been very difficult to find. And I know a lot of people who would give a pretty penny for your head." He said and grinned, tobacco wafted into Ophelia's nose and she spat at him. He startled back but grabbed her by her shirt and tossed her across the room. She stumbled over the coffee table and smacked her face on the dresser.

"You're not as bad as the reports say, you know." The man taunted. Ophelia tried to pick herself up a bit but the alchohol was really taking affect and she used the wardrobe to help her up. She reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a gun, aiming at the intruder.

"AH, I wouldn't do that." The man said as he sat on a chair and crossed his legs. There was a click and Ophelia felt a gun being pressed to her temple. She could also see a third man standing near the door, gun aimed at her as well. She took out the bullets in her and dropped it all to the floor. "That's a good girl. Bring her over here." The Man said.

The brute grabbed Ophelia by the arm and lifted her out of her shoes, dragging her over to the middle of the room. He forced her on her knees and yanked her by her hair so her head was up. She let out a hiss of pain.

"I have some questions and I want you to answer them." The man in the chair said.

"Google works just as well. Or are you too stupid." The man smirked.

"No. Just more fun seeing such a pretty girl on her knees." Ophelia grimaced and the smirk on the man's face grew. "Andrew, stand outside, make sure no one gets in." The man by the door left. Ophelia quickly began to think of how she could take out the man with the gun and then the ring leader. Since she could not see the man with the gun, there wasn't much she could do in this state.

"So, Ophelia, who do you work for?" The man asked as he began to put rings on his fingers.

"I don't work for-"

"Right. You left that side of the business didn't you? Well then, no need for confidentiality. Who did you work for?" The man asked.

"Who wants to know?" Ophelia countered. sHe couldn't think of a comeback while intoxicated. Where the hell was Sherlock?

"Just a few people. Why? Feeling loyal? That would be the day. Hell would freeze over before _you_ were loyal to someone." The man scoffed.

"I'm more loyal than your mother was." Ophelia mumbled under her breathe but the flash of anger in the man's eyes says he was too easily manipulated. Ophelia smirked.

"You don't even know my mother." The man spat and stood, nocking over the chair.

"No, I know you dad better." She said and the man back handed her hard enough with the ringed had he cut her cheek in two spots. Ophelia tasted blood and could tell it was going to bruise, but the alcohol dulled the pain.

"Oooh, stuck a nerve." She drawled. When he hit her again she laughed. "That all you gonna do?"

"You laugh now, but what about when I'm painting these wall with your employees' brains?" Ophelia snapped her head to them.

"You leave them alone." Her voice was cold and demanding. He smirked. "Or what?"

Ophelia opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, there was the sound of a struggle outside in the hall and everyone turned to the door. Seconds later it flung open, revealing Sherlock holding a gun. He fired it at the second man but missed.

Ophelia, using the man's lack of attention against him, pushed off the floor and grabbed him around the middle. She tackled him to the floor and made to strangle him with one hand. With the other she tried to reach for the gun she had holstered under her desk but something round pressed against her abdomen and sent a pain right through her. She let out a yell of pain and her hands shot to her side. The man threw her off of him and got on top, about to strangle her. However, John ran over and tackeled the man and began punching him in the face. The man's face was bloody and beging to bruise when John released him. He would not be waking up comfortably. Ophelia groaned. She tried to sit up but the pain and alcohol forced her back down. Someone grabbed her shoulders and slowly lifted her up to sit. Her hand grabbed one of the leather clad hands around her upper arm.

"Sh'lock. Hi." She mumbled and slowly swung her head back to him. He studied her, observing her face.

"Sherlock, her stomach." John said urgently and kneeled next to the two while Sherlock grabbed her shirt and untucked it.

"What happened? It hurts." She said. The Chardonnay was really kicking in, especially with the slowing adrenaline. John lowered her skirt enough to observe it. "It looks like it went through. Didn't hit anything vital." He poked it and Ophelia seized in pain, yelling out.

"DAMN IT! What fuck. Why does it hurt!" She slurred. She looked down and saw blood. "Dafuck, 'm I bleeding for?" She said and tried to mess with it. Sherlock let her lean back on his shoulder and he grabbed her hands to still her.

"John, there is a first aid kit on the shelf in the closet, it may have something to make a bandage from." John shot up and went to it.

"Sherlock, did you phone Lestrade yet?" John asked as he grabbed it from the shelf.

"No. Ophelia, Ophelia, can you hear me?" Sherlock asked and gently grabbed her face, trying to get her to look at him. She seemed to be falling asleep.

"Yeah, what's up?" She slurred. "I'm tired."

"Ophelia, you've been shot, I need you to-"

"What? I was shot? Where was I shot?" She slurred and tried to sit up. She began kicking but stilled quickly. John quirked an eyebrow and began applying gauze to stop the bleeding. She was an interesting drunk.

"Sherlock, we can move her now. Hospital?" John said and kicked the kit aside. Sherlock scooped her up. "No. She will panick if she wakes in one. Back to the flat, phone Lestrade if Mary already hasn't."

Thank you all so much for following and reviewing and reading. I have the next chapters plot just some encouragement to write it. Please review to give me motivation and just let me know what you guys think. Do you like Ophelia? Should I through in a bit of Mystrade?


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